Have you ever wondered about the person who is worth melting for? Who’s slightest touch leaves a mark on you and their presence affecting your aura and purpose of life. I hold the pen begin to write, breathing desperately trying to open the doors of my mind to pace me towards new dimensions. I ponder strongly for hours, days and sometimes weeks over questions like, “What if trees had emotions residing inside of them as well! Would I have to owe them an apology at the cost of my freedom of expression?” An odd thought flashing before you right? Take a read. Imagine them fearing death, suppressed dealing with the notion, never ready to depart just like we do. But without their support my work and purpose feels incomplete. If they vanished from the root of existence and the graphite slowly dwindles too, I’d be lost wandering in the middle of no where in search of my tools to reach to you! I wonder what if my fingers numb and muscles are cramped and fatigued. The I wonder strongly if I could write letters with my lips and maybe use yours as my notebook? Our love would surely strengthen as you would be the paper to my pen. I still wonder should I go out and beg for forgiveness to every tree out there – stripped from its bark? To every piece of graphite confined to my pencil for the sole purpose and having the purest intentions of putting my thoughts to words and expressing myself to you! I will let the trees be stripped down and every gram of graphite be exploited as long as I’m able to reach you. Meaning you will read me once more tonight and just once more in the morning till the day we depart. I would go extremes for you if I have to. I will always hold the pen for you 🌷
I have days when I just write and my hands cannot stop for any known reason and then there are days when I dont want to even read or let alone write a sentene. A monochromatic phase of my life, dull, life less and you have no count of time.
It’s true, “Life is a short period of time between birth and death.”
Time is so valuable and precious yet most of us take it for granted as if we have an unlimited supply of it. I often ponder whether if we are slaves of time or we have become slaves of time. We procrastinate and waste it so much yet ironically we are always worried about the future we let the present slip through our fingers and farwell to quality time. Its quiet odd that even locked up in the chains of this so called slavery we imagine ourselves taking charge — or atleast we are the ones who should be in charge Ay? There’s the rub!
At times I worry so much about the future and I fail to comprehend why is this so. Is it because of my immaturity and lack of wisdom? I never paid any heed to all of the time enclosed in my life into a speck of a timeline. I always have plenty of it. So much of time that I let it slide through my fingers like worthless pennies or sand. So much of it that I watched it drain like water in a sink. So much that it vanished like a mirage in a desert or a magician in an act. Plenty of time I had as if I just watched it numbly flying across the empty horizon. Now I eventually realize and understand not only in my head but my entire being that for some of us today might be our last tomorrow. I wish it would slow down to a trickle and those warm sunny moments became an age. Time is a cold reality. It wont stop for you or anything in this cruel world. My quality of interactions with the world was as if fleetings were exchanged rather than moments of quality experienced and connected. I’m so worried about what will happen next or what needs to be done, that I never enjoyed or appreciated the moments I was or am blessed with. The clock is ticking. A new dawn is heading your way with its rosey fingers spilling over the horizon, new clouds with silver linings will form, you will grow a day older and would have lost 24 hours by then. So dont look back, for time will end you. Pace forward and make your way through life. You never know the numerous suprises and blessings it has to offer than the obstacles you will face in this rat race. 💭
Words are not just blots of ink on a piece of paper. There are 26 alphabets in the english language; alone they are helpless and enervated. But when they join hands together, they attain a new dimension. Alphabets need the identity of “words.” They are fragments of ones soul and embodiments of emotions that were untold. Their power is so intense that they can either stab a person and poison ones mind or they can make one’s day or even life. They can create magic or spell doom, be mysterious or put you in a severe amount of misery, they can lift your spirit or put you into an abyss, they can lift the curve of your lips and form a smile or can can make you cry till you dehydrate. Words! Mere words! They can start a revolution and spread peace or lead to mass killings. Words are reflections of your thoughts – use them cleverly.
They build bridges for relationships to ambulate on or they can wreck one’s soul.
They can inspire and transform individuals, heck nations and they can also lead to global disorder.
The can shun or retard ones growth.
Words heal and are therapeutic but they are also toxic and fatal.
They liberate thoughts to freedom or they can strangle and confine someone in a shackles.
Choose your words well! Think before you strike! Don’t pretend to be oblivious of the effect they have on an individuals life. They are not just words, sounds or letters rearranged and uttered; they are the most deadliest weapons one possess. [MK’s Quill]